


Snowdrops

by KissingWinchesters



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 13:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/pseuds/KissingWinchesters
Summary: Aziraphale worries about 'The Arrangement'.





	Snowdrops

**Author's Note:**

> Day three - these soft boys are harder to write for some reason, but I got it done.

The frost on the ground covers everything with white crystals. Even the ducks are more subdued, huddling together against the biting cold.

“So we’re agreed?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies huffily.

“It should be second nature now, angel. This arrangement we’ve had has worked for a long time.”

Crowley looks over at his companion as they stroll through st James park. It’s amusing the way that Aziraphale still makes such a fuss of their mutual redistribution of their duties.

“I don’t want us to get caught,” Aziraphale says. “Who knows what the angels would do, and it’d be worse for you… down there.”

Aziraphale emphasises the words by pointing in what he must think is the direction of hell. All Crowley can see is the pavement.

“Gabriel has been turning up unannounced recently. He could be behind that tree right now.”

“Why would he be behind that tree? He’d be over here smiting or whatever your lot do to my sort. I think we’re safe here.”

“For now,” Aziraphale adds. He’s worried. Theirs is a dangerous game, and he can only imagine the type of punishment they’d both face if they were to get caught. “Take this seriously, Crowley.”

“So, we find new places to meet? More cloak and dagger. How do you feel about sewers?” Crowley’s eyebrow arches mockingly above his glasses.

“Not favourable,” Aziraphale grumbles. “Though… you might have something there.”

“They don’t care what we’re doing as long as we’re getting things done. You know this.”

“The zoo might be an idea,” Aziraphale goes on, “or the underground.”

Crowley grimaces.

“Hm, yes, perhaps not. Too noisy.”

“And filthy,” Crowley scowls.

“Yes, fine, well you think of something.”

“I don’t need to. There are hundreds of busses in London, the museums, not to mention your restaurants.”

“Do you have any other ideas?”

“I do actually. Let’s sit down.” Crowley taps his boot against a bench and the frost melts away to a warm dry seat.

He sits down, less sprawling than usual, tilting his head until Aziraphale joins him.

“We need to be careful, that’s all I’m saying.” Aziraphale holds his hands up like that’s the end of the matter.

“All you’re saying,” Crowley repeats.

“Right.”

“Right,” Crowley says.

“Precisely… oh, now you’re just being silly.”

Crowley grins and takes off his black leather gloves, tucking them into his jacket pocket.

“Look, angel…”

“Don’t angel me, I’m trying to have an important discussion and you’re being, well you, and we both know how this could go and…”

“No! I mean, look.” Crowley waves his hand to the grass verge directly opposite them.

Poking up out of the grass are tiny green shoots, their flowers still encased except for one. A white, tear shaped flower.

“Oh goodness, a snowdrop. Is it that time already, my dear?”

Crowley nods and inhales the crisp air.

“That time already. Winter doesn’t last forever.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully.

By the time they leave the park some hours later, a second snowdrop has blossomed.


End file.
